Page 28 of Fallen Heir
Alex leaned in, too close, his cologne masking something darker—cheap soap and the sour stench of sweat that had soaked into expensive fabric. His finger lifted, and before I could flinch away, he slid it down the side of my face. Slow. Possessive. Like he was tracing what he thought belonged to him.
His skin was rough. Calloused. And the weight of his touch made my stomach turn. The kind of hand that had hurt people. Touched things no woman should ever have to imagine.
I wanted to scream. To wipe it off. To tear my own skin off just to forget how it felt. But I couldn’t move.
“I’ll be in touch,” he whispered. A grin curled at the corner of his mouth. “Sweet Savannah.”
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him like the sound of a loaded gun making me flinch. But I stayed frozen, like maybe if I didn’t breathe, this would all go away. As if I could erase what just happened by pretending it hadn’t.
Every cell in my body begged me to run to Jaxson. To tell him everything. To beg him to protect me. To let someone else carry this, even just for a moment.
But it wasn’t his burden. It was mine. And if I gave in now—if I made it real—I didn’t know if I’d survive it.
I straightened, fixed my hair in the mirror, and forced the mask back on. Then I walked out of that bathroom like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just been cornered. Touched. Threatened.
The moment Jaxson saw my face, I knew he knew.
“I’m not feeling well,” I said quickly, eyes not quite meeting his. “Would it be alright if I left a little early?”
He didn’t question it. Didn’t push. There was a hesitation and I saw the doubt. Instead, he just nodded once and turned to Ben.
Ben.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough for my thoughts to spiral.
Could I trust him? Could I trust anyone?
But there wasn’t time to think. I slid my arm through his and followed him toward the exit.
The car door opened, and I slid in without a word. Ben didn’t comment on my silence. Just closed it gently behind me and circled to the driver’s side.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My palms were slick with sweat, the dress that was made to mold me now feeling like it was suffocating, heart threatening to claw its way out of my ribcage. I had to get home. Somewhere safe. Anywhere but here.
The doors locked with a soft click as the engine purred to life, and we pulled away from the Met.
Ben didn’t speak at first. Just drove. One hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. Like this was just another night. Just another ride. But I felt the way his eyes flicked toward me.
He knew something was wrong.
Still, I kept my gaze fixed out the window, watching the city blur past in golden streaks.
“You okay?” he asked finally, voice calm but edged with concern. “You were… glowing tonight. Something shift?”
I swallowed hard and forced my voice steady. “Just tired.”
He didn’t buy it. I could feel it in the pause.
“I grabbed this on the way out,” he said, holding out a bottle of water. I could see it in the window’s reflection. “Thought you might want it.”
I shook my head without looking at him. “No. Thank you.
Another pause. This one heavier.
“Did someone upset you?” His voice dropped lower—protective now. Sharper. “Something happen in there?”
“No.” The word left my mouth before I could stop it. A lie. But I couldn’t say more. If I opened my mouth again, I wasn’t sure I could stop it all from spilling out.
